


i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)

by dygonilly



Series: fated [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, Floor Sex, M/M, Polyamory, Porn with Feelings, Seokmin Sexy, Threesome - M/M/M, in a move nobody saw coming: i use colour as a metaphor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24830647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dygonilly/pseuds/dygonilly
Summary: It took Seokmin a little longer to accept that they didn’t all have to be together all the time, catching up to the years Mingyu and Minghao spent living together and learning each other’s boundaries as roommates, but it’s been good lately. Good enough that Minghao can still feel the bruises on his thighs Mingyu left like love letters last night, can see the blooming colour of them when he crosses his legs to start painting and the hem of his shorts rides up. He smiles when the sound of Seokmin’s laughter creeps under the door and somewhere between his ribs, a flare of yellow and white that he reaches for in the line up of paints beside him.(a sequel to 'this absurd fraction')
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Lee Seokmin | DK/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Series: fated [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796101
Comments: 12
Kudos: 208





	i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)

**Author's Note:**

> these boys deserved something a little saucy after all that angst. if you haven't read the first fic, all that you need to know is they have a soulmate bond and they love each other. however, i will love You if you read that one first. 
> 
> title is taken from [i carry your heart with me(i carry it in] by e.e. cummings and vibes inspired by the Seokmin Sexy movement and his [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/606RZPLcHIODRUO2WnTRwt?si=jI7wXZg6QQSjMIuMYyP3mQ), which I'd recommend listening to while you read. enjoy!!!

* * *

**SOMETIME IN SUMMER**

* * *

On days like this, when the light is even and the air feels sweet, Minghao likes to roll up his sleeves and push the couch and the coffee table against the wall to clear a space for painting. Mingyu doesn’t like all the mess but he loves Minghao, and somehow he’s softened even more over the past year, melting around all of Minghao’s edges like caramel. He barely even commented when he came out of the bedroom where he and Seokmin were watching a movie--just poured himself a glass of water and drank it, leant against the doorframe, watching with interest as Minghao set up all of his supplies. 

Apropos of nothing the interest had spiked into something a little headier, and Minghao looked over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow, so in tune with his boyfriends’ moods but still surprised when the bond randomly flared with heat. 

“What?” he had asked, quietly amused. 

Mingyu’s cheeks coloured like a wine-spill. “Uh, nothing! Nothing. Have fun.” He then abandoned his empty glass on the counter and fled back to the bedroom to slam the door shut. Minghao huffed a laugh through his nose. They’d let out whatever energy they had on each other. It took a while to get used to--a relationship split three ways was equal on paper but a constant balancing act in real life--but time has settled them like dust, like cherry blossoms chasing the heels of summer, and now Minghao barely even thinks twice of it when he comes home to the sounds and feelings of Mingyu and Seokmin having sex. Either he joins in or watches or gets close enough to lick the back of Mingyu’s teeth and palm Seokmin’s ass before leaving again, content with them having each other and feeling the ebb and flow of it through the bond.

It took Seokmin a little longer to accept that they didn’t all have to be together all the time, catching up to the years Mingyu and Minghao spent living together and learning each other’s boundaries as roommates, but it’s been good lately. Good enough that Minghao can still feel the bruises on his thighs Mingyu left like love letters last night, can see the blooming colour of them when he crosses his legs to start painting and the hem of his shorts rides up. He smiles when the sound of Seokmin’s laughter creeps under the door and somewhere between his ribs, a flare of yellow and white that he reaches for in the line up of paints beside him.

Once everything is set up, he queues a quiet playlist, puts his earphones in, and starts painting. 

He doesn’t have a direction, but he’s using a wide brush and his hands and it calms him like he’s floating; Minghao is sitting cross legged on an ocean of newspapers largely collected by Seokmin on his daily commute and hand delivered, every time, with a kiss, in the kitchen or at the table or mid-page turn in the armchair in the corner of Minghao’s bedroom; he pulls the love from his chest and splays it from the top of the canvas to the bottom. He flicks it with blue because it feels rich and deep and then he watches, satisfied, as it drips down in uneven lines. 

Time passes unevenly. In the brief quiet between songs Minghao hears a long, drawn out moan from the bedroom and the hook in his stomach tugs, hard. Sharp enough that he sucks in a breath like it’ll kill him not to. 

It’s rare for feelings to transfer so strongly through the bond when he’s not touching one or both of them. He feels cracked over the head with it. 

He twists his torso at the still-shut bedroom door, curious about what Mingyu and Seokmin are doing, what’s making them desperate enough for Minghao to feel it all the way from here. It’s not like they’re lacking time to be with each other; it’s the second week of summer break and none of them bothered to book a vacation out of Seoul, content to spend the time with each other and their friends.

All the spare time and the come-down from a stressful semester has translated into lazy mornings and changing the sheets almost every day because Seokmin likes to be fucked into the mattress and Minghao has been ringing orgasms out of his boyfriends like it’s a competition, chasing the sweet taste of Mingyu’s brow pinched in pleasure, the sweat that beads along his neck and the way he whines when he’s close; the strength in both of their hands and the way they melt for Minghao whenever he asks for it.

He watches the closed bedroom door for a few moments longer, a slow pulsing beat drumming through his earphones to match the steady thudding in his gut. He wants to join them. But he also wants to finish this layer--wants to mix the green into the yellow a little more and sharpen the edges. He rolls his shoulders and turns back to his canvas.

He’s still lazily mixing colours on the palette when the floorboards shift with footsteps. 

Seokmin kneels behind Minghao and lightly drags a hand up his arm before tapping one earphone and gently pulling it out. “Hello,” he says, kissing the shell of Minghao’s ear. “This looks nice.”

Minghao leans back against his chest and hums. “I think I like it.”

“So… on a scale of 1-10, how busy are you?”

Minghao grins. “What do you want?”

Seokmin drags open palms down Minghao’s shoulders and down his back, coming to settle on his waist and squeezing lightly. “Not me. Mingyu. He’s being whiney.” He starts kissing a line down Minghao’s jaw and neck and Minghao leans his head over to give him more access, sighing at the contact. It’s been months but it still feels new to feel everything so amplified when their skin touches.

“As always,” he says. Seokmin laughs against his skin. “Where is he?” 

“Mm, on the bed. Catching his breath.” 

“What were you two doing? I could feel it from here.”

“Really?” Minghao nods and gasps when Seokmin’s hands drop down to his inner thighs and start kneading. “I was just eating him out.”

“ _ Just _ ,” Minghao laughs.

“Well, and other stuff,” Seokmin says shyly. When it comes to sex, he is the most beautiful paradox: uncertain and stumbling with his words but steady and devastating with his body. It bowled Minghao sideways the first time they had sex. He had Mingyu figured out before they even started taking their clothes off, but Seokmin was brand new in that moment, confident hands taking Minghao apart and holding him close, holding him steady, this effortless kind of beautiful that Minghao clung to like a ship in a storm. 

So when he says that Mingyu is still catching his breath in the aftermath of his hands and his mouth, Minghao believes him.

“Your paint is drying up,” Seokmin whispers in his ear. One of his hands has moved to rest heavy at the front of Minghao’s shorts.

“Because you’re distracting me,” Minghao bites back.

Seokmin nips at his earlobe. “Me? Never.”

Minghao immediately yanks his other earphone out and scrambles to turn around, pushing Seokmin back with a hand on his chest until he’s laying flat on the newspapers and Minghao can straddle his hips. He grips both of Seokmin’s wrists and pushes them above his head, holding them there as he leans down until their noses are almost touching. Seokmin’s eyes go wide, his breaths coming in quick. 

“It’ll be your fault if this painting turns out badly,” Minghao says, rubbing the tips of their noses together.

Seokmin’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “There’s no such thing as a bad Xu Minghao painting.”

Minghao scoffs and kisses him.

Seokmin immediately arches up to meet him, wrists tugging against Minghao’s grip in an effort to be free, but Minghao bears down instead, trapping him there, and Seokmin whines into the kiss. 

Minghao pulls back to smirk. “Oh? Do you like this?”

“Shut up,” Seokmin giggles, ears going red, “you know I do.”

“I do,” Minghao says smugly. He presses their mouths together again and lays his body on top of Seokmin’s. He stretches their arms above their bodies and his hands move from gripping Seokmin’s wrists to threading their fingers together, palms clasped like a prayer. Seokmin’s hips kick up in response, jostling Minghao forward with a gasp. 

“Missed you,” Seokmin whispers against his mouth. “Missed this.”

Minghao giggles against his chin, the strong line of his jaw. “We had sex this morning.”

“That was sooooo long ago,” Seokmin whines. “Let me up. Please, I need to--” Minghao instantly eases his grip and moves with Seokmin as he sits up, one hand coming down to hitch Minghao closer in his lap and the other coming up to cup his jaw. 

A streak of colour catches Minghao’s eye.

“Your wrist,” he says, wrapping his paint-stained fingers around Seokmin’s forearm to bring it between them. There’s half a green handprint tracing the delicate skin of Seokmin’s wrist and a few streaks scattered across his palm and fingers. It makes Minghao feel hungry and possessive, knowing that his other wrist is Marked in jasmine and silk--knowing that he has Seokmin in every way and that Seokmin will let him do anything to him, for him, with him.

Seokmin is watching him with knowing eyes. “Wow, this is really a thing fo--mmph!”

Minghao cuts him off with a kiss, and this one is far less gentle than the others, all teeth and tongue and a hand fisted in Seokmin’s t-shirt. Their hips start rocking together, guided by Seokmin’s hand splayed on Minghao’s ass. His arm reaches so easily around Minghao’s waist and it’s almost embarrassing, how easily it riles him up. It feels good--beyond good--being like this with Seokmin, lips sliding together and Seokmin losing his breath between Minghao’s teeth, but if there’s one thing Minghao will never pass up on, it’s a pliant, whiny Mingyu.

“Seokmin, baby, wait,” Minghao slows their movements, “didn’t you say Mingyu wanted to join?”

Seokmin’s eyes are a little glazed over but Mingyu’s name seems to stir him. “Yes, you’re right.” He leans out of Minghao’s space. “Mingyu-yah!” he calls.

There’s a disembodied, petulant, “What?” from the direction of the bedroom, and Minghao hides his giggle in Seokmin’s neck. He starts sucking a bruise under the angle of his jaw.

“Come here,” Seokmin calls, a little shaky.

“My legs don’t work!” 

“Don’t be a baby,” Minghao calls back. Almost instantly the bedroom door is ripped open and Mingyu appears, shirtless and flushed, hair sticking up at the back.

“Myungho. I thought you were painting.”

“I was,” Minghao says, arms draped casually over Seokmin’s shoulders. He rolls his hips once and Seokmin tips his forehead against his sternum with an exhale. The hand on Minghao’s ass flexes. “I got distracted.”

“Oh thank god.” Mingyu rushes over and gets on his knees beside them, wasting no time licking into Minghao’s mouth, fingers threaded through his hair. “I need you to--if you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll die. Want you inside me.” 

Minghao giggling breaks the kiss. “Okay, first of all, we need to get the--”

“Lube? I have it,” Mingyu holds up the bottle like a trophy. “Where are we doing this? Here? The floor? That works. Oh, wow Myungho-yah, I love the painting, it’s so bright.” He kisses Minghao loudly, moaning into it. “You’re so talented, I love you.”

“I told you he was in a mood,” Seokmin says smugly, patting Mingyu’s hair with a fond smile. 

Minghao feels a bit dazed when Mingyu pulls back to let them breathe. Now that all three of them are touching the feedback loop of emotion is at once intensified and dampened, like all their loose ends have been tied, puzzle pieces fitting together. 

“I’ll have to wash my hands first,” Minghao says. “Don’t think this paint is safe for uh, penetration.”

“That’s okay, leave it, it’s sexy,” Mingyu says, wriggling to lie down on his back beside them and kick his underwear off. Minghao sees him naked every day but it doesn’t stop his mouth from going dry at the sight of him spread out like a god, afternoon sunlight dripping over his legs.

“I know it’s sexy, baby, but it’s not hygienic to finger you with acrylic paint.”

“You don’t need to finger him,” Seokmin says, and like he’s been instructed, Mingyu pulls one of his thighs up to his chest to reveal that he’s wearing a butt plug. He grins with his tongue between his teeth at the way Minghao whimpers.

“You two are going to kill me,” Minghao says, kissing Seokmin fiercely before getting out of his lap to drop his shorts and underwear.

“Take your top off!” Seokmin whoops. Minghao pulls it off and tosses the material in his face. Seokmin catches it and tips back with a bright laugh. 

Minghao drapes himself over Mingyu in a reflection of his earlier position with Seokmin and Mingyu instantly gets his hands on Minghao’s ribs, his waist, his hips. “Hello,” he smiles.

Minghao kisses him in response. He gets a hand behind Mingyu’s knee and hitches it up over his hip before trailing his fingers down to Mingyu’s entrance, grazing the cool glass base of the plug. “How long have you had this in?” he asks, watching Mingyu’s face twist up when he pulls it out and slowly pushes it back in, twisting slightly. “Hm? Answer me, Mingyu-yah.” His cheeks are already pink and Minghao can feel him hardening against his stomach. Always so responsive. 

“N-not long,” he stutters, “ _ Shit. _ ” The hand on Minghao’s bicep flexes, and Mingyu clenches his jaw. “Please fuck me.”

“In a second. This is fun.”

Seokmin exhales a laugh, but it hitches. Minghao looks to the left to see him lying on his side, shirt gone, lazily touching himself.

“Changed my mind,” Minghao says, pulling the plug out completely and reaching for the lube and a pillow to put under Mingyu’s hips. Mingyu takes the bottle, “Because of the paint thing,” and Minghao’s hip kick forward into his grip as Mingyu coats his dick with lube. Mingyu then uses the same hand to stick a few fingers in himself, whining and bearing down on his own hand. 

“Fuck,” Seokmin hisses, leaning in to get his mouth on Mingyu’s shoulder as his hand speeds up on himself.

“Okay, I’m good,” Mingyu pants after a few moments. “C’mon.”

“Sure?” Minghao checks, shuffling down to line himself up. Mingyu nods hurriedly and Minghao starts to push in, one hand holding his thigh up towards his chest, and the other on his hip. Mingyu is so wet and hot around him, making such beautiful noises from his throat, it’s a challenge not to immediately sink all the way in. Minghao doesn’t usually have much of a preference--there’s great parts about both fucking and getting fucked--but everytime he sinks into Mingyu like this it seems impossible to think he’d ever choose anything else.

Once his hips are pressed flush against Mingyu’s ass, Minghao starts to grind in slow circles. Mingyu groans and pulls Seokmin in by the back of the head to kiss him. 

“Faster,” Mingyu says against Seokmin’s mouth, and Minghao doesn’t need telling twice. He sets a steady pace, pulling Mingyu’s hips towards him as he fucks into him. The apartment fills with the sound of skin on skin and Mingyu’s high pitched whines. 

Minghao could never put into words how good it feels to fuck with someone you are Fated to. He tried painting it, to see if slashes of red and gold and black would translate some of the intense pleasure he feels right now. Jeonghan smirked when he saw it hanging up in their foyer, so maybe he succeeded.

“I’m close,” Seokmin says frantically, fucking down into his fist with the delicious expanse of his back offered to the ceiling. Mingyu brings one of his hands between them, holds him tight by the chin and gets two of his fingers in Seokmin’s mouth, pumping them in and out. Seokmin closes his eyes and groans around Mingyu’s fingers, mouth slack. He comes a few seconds after. All three of them moan in tandem at the feeling; Minghao buries himself into Mingyu with a broken gasp and Mingyu brings the hand that was holding Seokmin’s face down to his dick, stomach muscles jumping at the relief of being touched.

“Myungho,” he says brokenly, and Minghao knows every intonation of his name on Mingyu’s lips, knows what this one means, so he leans down and cradles Mingyu’s neck in his palm before kissing him tongue first. His knees are starting to feel the discomfort of doing this on the floor, but he speeds up when Mingyu does, knuckles bumping against Minghao’s stomach.

The pace of Minghao’s hips start to jostle them too much for kissing so Minghao pulls back just enough to let Mingyu pant into his open mouth. It’s sweaty and suffocating but he’s so close to coming that he barely notices. 

One of Seokmin’s hands threads through the hair at the back of his head and it’s a comforting touch at first, but then he  _ tugs _ . “Oh fuck,” Minghao gasps, and he can’t even take another breath before he’s coming, pressed in close, fingers digging into the meat of Mingyu’s thigh, hips twitching in small aborted circles. His head fills with a static that washes to his toes like fire; his hearing even whites out for a second.

“Oh my god, I lasted the longest,” Mingyu laughs, but the syllables are all split apart, and almost as soon as he says it, he comes too, chest heaving, back arching off the floor. Minghao stays inside him until he wriggles out of discomfort, and he pulls out with a kiss to the tip of Mingyu’s nose. He flops onto his back to catch his breath, and they’re all quiet for a moment before Seokmin speaks.

“Well. Thank god these newspapers are here. I don’t think come is good for the floorboards.” Minghao snorts and Mingyu chases it with laughter. “Wow,” Seokmin continues, reading off the page under Mingyu’s head, “the lottery last week was six billion!”

Mingyu sits up with a, “Really?” and Minghao watches them with hearts in his eyes as they get into a heated debate about the pros and cons of gambling before they’ve even cleaned up.

Their conversation trails off and Seokmin looks at Minghao where he’s lying, half in the sun, and smiles. “You always get so fond after we do that.”

Minghao scrunches his nose. He may be used to it, but it’s still embarrassing when they point out what he’s feeling before he can tell them. 

“Oohhhhhh you loooove us,” Mingyu sings, crawling over to kiss him upside down, “Myungho wants to beeee with us.”

Seokmin sighs dramatically. “I’ve been waiting for Xu Minghao to notice me my whole life.”

“Stop it,” Minghao whines, sitting up to escape Mingyu’s barrage of kisses. 

“Never,” Mingyu says, and Minghao is helpless against the fresh wave of infatuation that ripples through his veins. Seokmin walks over to them on his knees and collects one of Minghao’s wrists in both of his hands, brings the vulnerable part of it to his mouth and kisses his Mark while maintaining eye contact. 

He feels like golden hour, and Mingyu feels like the first stretches of dusk that follow right afterwards, and Minghao is so devastatingly in love with them and the constellations of their joint hands and souls that he burns with it. 

“Are you going to finish your painting?” asks Mingyu, cheek pressed against Minghao’s hair.

“No,” says Minghao, looking at the canvas, “I like it as it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> [microwave sounds]
> 
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/dygonilly)


End file.
